Close Call
by o0shithappens0o
Summary: One-shot. Surface life is slowly driving Flowey mad. Despite the odds, Frisk made good on their promise to free all monsters and help evacuate the underworld. This doesn't mean Flowey owes Frisk any gratitude. There's still a smiley trashbag who hasn't learned his place. (Floweypot AU, Pacifist Route spoilers)
Another uneventful day, just like every week so far.

For a long time, the possibility of escaping their sealed confines had been dismissed as foolish by most monsters. Humans had won the war, and would ensure their victory for further decades.

Along came Frisk. A quiet, unremarkable and weak-looking child who literally stumbled into everyones' lives. They didn't make a strong first impression, but were brimming with determination. So much that the barrier separating the surface from the underworld could once and for all be shattered.

The prophecy had been true after all.

Settling into human society proved to be a challenge, but every monster took new struggles in stride. Toriel had been accepted into the gradeschool teacher programme, finally close to fulfilling her dream. TV sponsors found out about Mettaton's studio-friendly personality in no time, making him co-host of a talent show.

Papyrus, despite his endless confidence, had trouble finding suitable work. Police academies took one look at the skeleton and instantly dismissed him, and becoming a chef was more demanding than Papyrus could ever imagine. His brother wasn't doing any better. Sans' resume looked questionable to say the least. They suspected that part of their bad luck was because of their appearance. Lots of human history equated skeletons with horror, a symbol of death in almost all cultures. Browsing the internet only gave rise to new questions. Something about an 'uncanny valley' and this fabled 'skeleton war'...

Despite said hardships, everyone was trying to make a living and find their own happiness in this strange world.

Oh, how Flowey _loathed_ it.

Perched on a small cupboard in the kitchen, the plant ground his teeth in boredom.

While his ability to save and reset was gone, along with imitating faces, he still retained some of his old powers. When Frisk decided to plant Flowey outside in the backyard during summer, he realised that he could still burrow under the soil and tunnel around. He tried to escape several times, all attempts foiled either by Sans or Flowey miscalculating and trying to burst through pavement, alerting pedestrians with his agonised shouts.

He was stuck inside the house while the remaining residents studied or worked dayshifts. No employers would consider hiring a plant, and he'd been banned from tagging along to school with Frisk after too many incidents with foul-mouthed brats who needed to learn their place.

Teachers apparently disapproved of disciplining children with friendliness pellets.

Grumbling, Flowey extended his vines across the kitchen to search through the pantry for snacks. Thankfully they weren't so useless as to leave him without something to eat. Frisk had insisted on buying sweets, suggesting they might reward him with it whenever he showed good behaviour. Toriel felt sceptical about feeding a flower artificial food, but nevertheless gave in. After a grocery trip and lots of spat out candies, Flowey eventually settled for gummyworms.

Flowey had no intention of keeping his promise to avoid candy unless rewarded. Frisk was reaching new levels of idiocy if they genuinely thought of him as well-mannered.

Managing to pull open the counter, he latched onto the bag of gummyworms and brought it over to his cupboard. Fishing around for a piece, he opened his maw and popped one gummyworm inside.

A despicable flavor assaulted his mouth, making his stem wilt briefly.

Flowey coughed and sputtered, spitting out the vile candy as quickly as possible. They never tasted like this! Was someone trying to poison him?

A slip of paper stuck to the bottom of the bag caught Flowey's attention. He brought it close for inspection, squinting in an effort to read the messily scribbled words.

 ** _A pinch of salt to match that salty attitude of yours. Bone appetit._**  
 ** _-Sans_**

Tearing his bag to pieces, gummyworms were scatterered in every direction, curses echoing within the house.

"I'll kill that smiley trashbag!" Who adds salt to perfectly fine candy? And not more horrible puns!

Since moving up to the surface, Sans had dedicated most of his free time to making Flowey his primary joke victim. Whenever Toriel or Frisk would turn their backs on them, the two were at each other's throats.

This was the last straw. From now on, the fat skeleton would get more than his just desserts. Screw house rules against fighting, an eye for an eye always worked!

The door to the hallway creaked open, laughter spilling inside.

Seems like Sans always came to pick up Toriel after work. In no time at all, the two had grown affectionate. It was already evident from their interactions before he'd interrupted the little pow-wow, what with Toriel's hurt feelings and disappointment in Asgore. The old man lived on his own for the time being.

Toriel and Sans had appointed themselves custodians of this household after moving to the surface. Well, Toriel appointed Sans despite his obvious reluctance.

An idea suddenly hit Flowey. Face twisting into a malicious grin, he let multiple roots grow long as they twisted down the cupboard and slithered past the kitchen entrance, forming a single thick vine. Grasping the leg of a chair, his vine was drawn taut above the floor.

Just out of view so unsuspecting fools would trip.

Flowey waited while the voices grew close. From the sound and pattern of their feet, Sans was walking ahead of Toriel. A few seconds and the skeleton would fall for his trap.

A foot connected with his vine, the figure losing balance and stumbling forward with a gasp. They somehow looked taller than usual…

Horror flashed across Flowey's face once he realised his mistake. Vines scrambled to stop Toriel from crashing into the floor, coiling around her arms and waist to try and suspend the fall. The woman was heavier than she looked though, and gravity surpassed what little strength he possessed in this form…

Toriel's body almost came to a halt one foot above the floor, the pull of vines enough that she could catch herself on her hands and knees without injury.

"Oh… oh my… that was a close call." While her voice sounded composed, shock still lingered in her red eyes.

All oxygen left Flowey with one breath, sighing deeply in relief as he retracted his vines.

Toriel turned to look over her shoulder, gaze landing on the golden flower. "I didn't watch my steps. Thank you for reacting so fast, Flowey."

He stared in dumbfounded silence before returning to his senses. "I-it was nothing mom- Toriel! I meant Toriel!"

Flowey felt a chill spread from his core. What an idiotic slip-up...

A light chuckle escaped her. "Mom? Frisk's been calling me that since we first met inside the ruins, you're welcome to call me 'mom' as well."

"...Whatever." The attempted nonchalance wasn't enough to cover his sudden outburst.

Flowey flinched as a large hand brushed his leaves. "I really am grateful, my child. Caught off guard like that, I could've hurt myself." Toriel smiled tenderly, voice warm with affection. "I'm glad that you're starting to feel comfortable around us."

Something foreign rushed through him. Embarassment? He hunched over to obscure his face, despite not being able to blush.

She pat him once more before standing up, much to Flowey's relief. As she was heading towards the living room he noticed Sans observing him quietly from across the kitchen, slouching against the fridge.

Bastard must've seen his trap from the hallway and teleported ahead. He felt one eye begin to twitch.

"Heh. Nice reflexes for a plant," the skeleton drawled, sauntering over to Flowey's cupboard. "For future reference: Roots are a hell of a lot more conspicuous than transparent wire. I don't need eyeballs to have good vision."

Hissing, Flowey rose from his hunched pose, exuding hostility now with Sans standing right in front of him. "Noted, trashbag."

Sans kept a relaxed posture. "Honestly, I didn't expect you to actually catch Tori. You're a lightweight. Maybe there's still a soul left in that weed you call a body?"

"Shut up! I was targeting you, not her." His expression flickered, gazing off to the side before focusing on Sans.

"Besides... Toriel's the one who provides for us", Flowey said half-heartedly. "Don't want her ending up in the hospital or anything like that..."

Sans' perpetual grin grew wider somehow. It only annoyed the flower. "Whatever you say, kid. At least she's fine."

Without warning, the short skeleton suddenly loomed over Flowey, pupils gone from his eyesockets. "But if she'd been hurt, I would hold you over the stove until your petals catch fire and watch you squirm."

Screw eye for an eye. Make that an eye for every last piece of bone and marrow in this trashbag.


End file.
